


Remember

by Dinahdog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, M/M, Smut, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinahdog/pseuds/Dinahdog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While John is out working a case, the boys decide to take the Impala out for a drive to a cozy abandoned warehouse for a little brother-brother fun and Sam can't help but think back to all of his favorite moments with Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

"Dean, I don’t know if this is such a good idea. What if we get caught?"

"Who’s gonna catch us, Sammy? It’s not like we’ve ever been caught breaking into an abandoned house before. Besides, this old pile of bricks is in the middle of Nowhere, Narnia. I think we’re safe." Sam stumbles over the floor a bit as he follows his brother in. He closes the door behind him as if it would make anything of a difference.

"No, I was more worried about dad finding us. I mean, I know he’s going to be camping out in the forest all night, but he also told us not to steal the car, which you did, and it probably has a tracking device on it som-"

"Shhhh," Dean hushes him, holding a finger to his lips, "We are not. Going. To get. Caught. Dad can’t afford to leave the campsite now and he probably thinks we’re just being kids and fucking around in abandoned houses."

"Well, technically, we are," Sam snorts.

"Shut up, you know what I meant." They walk in further, their flashlights scanning the graffiti-covered walls. To anyone else this place may have been frightening and they probably would have thought it haunted, but Sam and Dean knew better. This place was harmless. The most dangerous thing there could possibly be in there was a brown recluse. Dean finds a good, flat, dry area and he takes out a sleeping bag from his pack, laying it on the ground there.

"Dean?" Sam asks timidly.

"What  _now_?” he sighs.

"Do you ever…do you ever think maybe there’s something wrong with us?" Silence. "I mean, I don’t know of any other siblings that do thi-" Sam is quieted by Dean once again, but this time it’s by his lips. They’re hard against his, but the skin is soft and sweet. Dean wraps his fingers through Sam’s hair. It’s starting to get a bit shaggy, but then again Sam did always like his hair long. He only ever kept it short for dad.

Sam stands on his toes to kiss his older brother with more intimacy. Family meant love and so why was this any different? He wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, biting at his lip. Dean groans, pushing Sam down onto the the floor. Their tongues intertwine and it reminds Sam of licorice and always fighting Dean over the last piece. Dean starts kissing down along Sam’s neck, his hands trailing down along his sides. Sam pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Dean looks down at his younger brother who has really started to grow into his body. His muscles were just starting to gain definition, their dips and ridges still smooth and soft.

Dean leans up to take his own shirt off, his necklace still hanging from his neck. Sam is beneath him, breathing heavily and trying to adjust to the uncomfortable hardness in his jeans. Dean leans down again, slowly kissing his way down Sam’s chest. Sam is watching him closely, timing his breaths. When Dean reaches the end of his boxers, just peaking out over his pants, he unbuttons and zips down Sam’s jeans, grabbing a hold of them and yanking them off. He pulls down Sam’s boxers ever so slightly so that his erect penis bounces up. It makes Sam go red in the face and he’s losing track of his breathing from the anticipation.

Dean slowly wraps his fingers around his brother's cock and Sam takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. The old house smells like a motel they stayed at once and they were told to wait out in the car for an hour because dad had brought a woman with him. He told them it was because he needed to do a “private interrogation”. Dean strokes slowly, keeping a tight grip that makes Sam feel like he’s being lifted up. He’s breathing in too much and sighs out. These feelings were still so new to him and he was learning to control them like Dean. He had to be like his older brother. Suddenly a warmness surrounds him, wet and alluring and Sam’s eyes pop open as he gasps. Dean’s mouth engulfs his cock, slowly moving down to take it all in. He grabs at the sleeping bag, forgetting completely how to breathe.

Dean moves upward again, licking the tip and playing with the head with his tongue, slowing stroking the shaft. He moves down again, bobbing up and down and up and down. Sam’s toes curl and his head arches back and he feels like a dead leaf curling in on itself but that simile isn’t quite right because he has never felt more  **alive**.

"D-Dean. Stop o-or we won’t-t be able to do anyth-thing else," he manages to say. Talking without air was an incredibly difficult feat. Dean chuckles, leaning up and wiping his mouth. He pulls down Sam’s boxers the rest of the way before unzipping his own pants and pulling them off with his boxers. His dick is hard and pink and Sam can’t help but stare at it. Stare at him. Dean reaches over to his backpack, bringing out what appears to be a bottle of hand sanitizer, but that was only a facade to deter their father. Sam still had no idea how Dean managed to get lube without getting caught, but then again Dean had always been good at sneaking around.

Dean spreads Sam’s legs which feel like flimsy deflated balloons that want to rise but are held to the ground by lead feet. He puts a little lube on his index finger and spreads it around Sam’s entrance. Sam hisses, flinching at the touch.

"Why is it so cold?" he asks.

"Sorry, I left it in the car and it is winter." Sam had forgotten that it was approximately 30 F in the building. There was sweat on the back of his neck where his hair was sticking and everything about Dean was warmth. Dean was a heater and he always wrapped himself around Sam during long car rides far up north. Dean slowly works his finger inside of Sam who is still clutching at the sleeping bag. He works it in and out, stretching him carefully, gently. Dean was always so gentle with Sam, always. He adds another finger and Sam clutches harder, his knuckles nearly white. He’s opening up faster than before, adjusting to it. When Dean adds a third finger, it barely even needs to work him before he’s ready. Dean pours more lube in his hand, slicking himself up. He strokes himself a few times before lining up with Sam.

"Ready?" he asks. 

"Yeah," he whispers. Dean presses a small, light kiss to Sam’s lips as he slowly pushes into him. Sam gasps out against Dean’s lips, tightly closing his eyes. He’s tight and trying to adjust to Dean’s cock was difficult, but it didn’t hurt. When Dean was all the way in, he releases the kiss, lingering only an inch away. It reminds Sam of the first time they kissed. Just young boys, curious, unaware that what they were doing was even wrong. Oh how far they had come.

"You okay?" he asks. Sam simply nods, putting one hand on Dean’s back and wrapping his legs around his waist. Dean slowly begins rocking back and forth, the friction warming up the chilly lube. Sam gasps with each thrust, his hand holding on tightly to the bag. Dean’s eyes are closed, his forehead against Sam’s, focused. Dean was always like that at first. He took sex seriously, always placing it on an intimate pedestal. He begins to gain speed, keeping a good rhythm. Sam is really starting to get into it, his legs wrapping around tighter. Still gaining momentum, Dean begins to lightly grunt, a small line of sweat forming across his forehead.

Dean’s necklace is brushing against his chest, the cold metal reminding Sam that he’s here, that this is happening. His body feels like a cloud of warmth, just waiting to float away, but the necklace rocks back and forth with Dean, drawing a cold line down his chest. He remembers Christmas and how he had searched everywhere for a gift for dad. How after finding nothing, Bobby had finally given him the necklace. How he had never even thought of getting Dean something. When Dean stole him those presents that year, he had never thought to give him the necklace until that moment. Until he realized he loved Dean more than anything else. And Dean loved him.

Dean is rocking into him hard now, his grunts louder and his thrusts slightly more erratic. Sam’s cock is aching and he’s just on the verge of release. He’s gasping with every thrust and whenever Dean manages to hit his prostate, he moans out, arching his back so that Dean’s stomach rubs against his own. When he can no longer handle it, he wraps his hands around Dean’s neck, yelling out his brother’s name.

"Dean!"   
  
He kisses him hard as his cum shoots onto Dean’s stomach. Dean grabs his hair as they kiss and he remembers the fourth of July. He remembers the fireworks and the stars and the dry field. He remembers the Impala and the trees. He remembers the smell of ash and the booming explosions. He remembers Dean, his hand on his and the night they shared together. He remembers it all. As Sam comes down, he hears Dean thrust into him once more, coming with a loud yell. Dean always finished just a minute after Sam. He pulls out, flopping down next to his younger brother, breathing heavily, his eyes closed as he rode out the last few waves of his orgasm. They lay there for a bit, just breathing. Just breathing.

Sam watches the little puffs of breath against the cold air disperse into particles, intertwining into the open room. After about ten minutes, Dean reaches over and grabs a towel, cleaning himself up. He tosses it to Sam who does the same. They both begin dressing in silence. For some this part was awkward and Sam wasn’t quite sure what it was like for Dean, but he liked it. Why ruin such a wonderful moment with what would probably be empty conversation about a life they refused to face? Dean grabs the backpack, tossing the disguised lube and dirty towel into it. He rolls up the sleeping bag, stuffing it into the backpack and throws it on his back.

"Ready?" he asks. He sounds like Dean, like his brother. Nothing has changed. It never does.

"Yeah," he responds. They leave the abandoned house and get back in the Impala, driving back to their cheap motel room where they sleep in separate beds.

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic was a story I wrote for a friend and had a copy of it sitting in my Tumblr drafts for like, months. I'm not really even a Wincest shipper, but I hope you guys liked it anyway.


End file.
